[ The greatest crime is this: the less time they have, the faster it seems to pass.
The hours are starting to blur into each other, all the colours mixing into a monochrome haze until she can’t keep track of the individual days anymore. The clocks keep turning and time keeps marching inexorably on.
It all comes down to the lumina converter, the anchor of all their hopes and dreams. A journalist had come by earlier to interview Gustave for Le Lumierien, plastering the paper with a headline about his achievements, no matter how sheepish and embarrassed it made the man.
But it’s not done yet, is the problem. So most nights, Lune and Gustave are still working, long past when the rest of the lab’s emptied out. The closer they get to G-Day, the more the strangling anxiety rises in the back of her throat, the more she burns the midnight oil, the less she sleeps— which is a source of anxiety too, knowing that the Expedition needs her to be well-rested and ready for anything, not an exhausted wreck of a person.
Doors open and close. The other future expeditioners leave for the day. The hours crawl and run.
Lune finally stands up from the desk, stretching her arms above her head, on tiptoe until some joint in her shoulderblades pops. Everything aches. The sunlight’s bled out of the room without her noticing; she snaps her fingers, a flame flaring to light some of the gas lanterns, and then she moves through to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, she returns to Gustave’s workstation and sets a steaming mug of tea on the table at his elbow. She cradles her own mug, letting it warm her palms. ]
Shouldn’t you be getting home to Maelle and Emma? [ she asks.
There’s no one at home for her. Not since Stella. Lune stays far too late and goes back to an empty apartment and then comes back before most people are in. Gustave is the person she’s seen the most of, lately—
which is starting to feel dangerous in its own way, a lingering fondness and an awful familiarity, forged in their wordless communication in the lab or the companionable bickering over equations or the way he’ll pass her a pen exactly when she needs it. Gustave is comfortable. And the closer they get to G-Day, the more tightly-wound and irritable Lune gets, and the more a corner of her mind is starting to teeter on the verge of a bad idea, no matter how much she tries to stamp it down.
( the pressure that they all feel about the upcoming g-day is one that gustave feels, perhaps, tenfold to that of the other expeditioners. not for any particular reason other than he has to bring his vision of the lumina converter to life. theory is one thing, and all the calculations and conversions are right, but to make it real—
he sighs, worriedly. quiet.
when lune stretches at her desk, gustave hunches over even more, wanting to work the very minute details with his tools. the worst part about this experiment of his is that even when it's done, he won't know if it'll work until after the make their way to the continent and fight their first nevrons. it could all be for naught.
the cup placed at his work station doesn't rouse him, but he's paying keen attention to lune's words that follow. she's come to learn that talking to gustave while he's working is a waste of breath, as he'll surface from his focus halfway through a sentence, apologetic, were you saying something?, trying to get himself to land his mind onto the expected social etiquette of conversation. the cup being placed is a warning for him to come back to the present, so by the time she speaks, he's already pulled back from his work, back straightening painfully. )
—merci. ( is the soft word cued up, almost on automatic, as he reaches for the cup with his prosthetic hand. one final inspection for now, and... he brings the cup to his lips, taking a sip, and setting what's supposed to be the lumina converter down. ) I told Em I wouldn't be back tonight.
( maelle? well, he can't really tell her these things, lest the girl pout and scold him. at emma's behest, gustave is trying his best to not mention the expedition too much, his younger sister hoping to dissuade the sixteen year old from joining them. gustave knows that her mind has already been made, though, so this is really just a courtesy for emma.
should he have to stop and think about the prospect of maelle in the 33rd expedition, he doesn't think he'll be able to focus too much himself, truth be told.
finally, he turns to lune, leaning back on his chair, eyes a little distant from spending so much time looking at small items at such close distance. a migraine is forming at the side of his skull. )
Besides, I can't let you stay here alone.
( some gentle ribbing, his lips quirking up a touch. )
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late night.
The hours are starting to blur into each other, all the colours mixing into a monochrome haze until she can’t keep track of the individual days anymore. The clocks keep turning and time keeps marching inexorably on.
It all comes down to the lumina converter, the anchor of all their hopes and dreams. A journalist had come by earlier to interview Gustave for Le Lumierien, plastering the paper with a headline about his achievements, no matter how sheepish and embarrassed it made the man.
But it’s not done yet, is the problem. So most nights, Lune and Gustave are still working, long past when the rest of the lab’s emptied out. The closer they get to G-Day, the more the strangling anxiety rises in the back of her throat, the more she burns the midnight oil, the less she sleeps— which is a source of anxiety too, knowing that the Expedition needs her to be well-rested and ready for anything, not an exhausted wreck of a person.
Doors open and close. The other future expeditioners leave for the day. The hours crawl and run.
Lune finally stands up from the desk, stretching her arms above her head, on tiptoe until some joint in her shoulderblades pops. Everything aches. The sunlight’s bled out of the room without her noticing; she snaps her fingers, a flame flaring to light some of the gas lanterns, and then she moves through to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, she returns to Gustave’s workstation and sets a steaming mug of tea on the table at his elbow. She cradles her own mug, letting it warm her palms. ]
Shouldn’t you be getting home to Maelle and Emma? [ she asks.
There’s no one at home for her. Not since Stella. Lune stays far too late and goes back to an empty apartment and then comes back before most people are in. Gustave is the person she’s seen the most of, lately—
which is starting to feel dangerous in its own way, a lingering fondness and an awful familiarity, forged in their wordless communication in the lab or the companionable bickering over equations or the way he’ll pass her a pen exactly when she needs it. Gustave is comfortable. And the closer they get to G-Day, the more tightly-wound and irritable Lune gets, and the more a corner of her mind is starting to teeter on the verge of a bad idea, no matter how much she tries to stamp it down.
But, still.
He’s here. That matters. ]
no subject
he sighs, worriedly. quiet.
when lune stretches at her desk, gustave hunches over even more, wanting to work the very minute details with his tools. the worst part about this experiment of his is that even when it's done, he won't know if it'll work until after the make their way to the continent and fight their first nevrons. it could all be for naught.
the cup placed at his work station doesn't rouse him, but he's paying keen attention to lune's words that follow. she's come to learn that talking to gustave while he's working is a waste of breath, as he'll surface from his focus halfway through a sentence, apologetic, were you saying something?, trying to get himself to land his mind onto the expected social etiquette of conversation. the cup being placed is a warning for him to come back to the present, so by the time she speaks, he's already pulled back from his work, back straightening painfully. )
—merci. ( is the soft word cued up, almost on automatic, as he reaches for the cup with his prosthetic hand. one final inspection for now, and... he brings the cup to his lips, taking a sip, and setting what's supposed to be the lumina converter down. ) I told Em I wouldn't be back tonight.
( maelle? well, he can't really tell her these things, lest the girl pout and scold him. at emma's behest, gustave is trying his best to not mention the expedition too much, his younger sister hoping to dissuade the sixteen year old from joining them. gustave knows that her mind has already been made, though, so this is really just a courtesy for emma.
should he have to stop and think about the prospect of maelle in the 33rd expedition, he doesn't think he'll be able to focus too much himself, truth be told.
finally, he turns to lune, leaning back on his chair, eyes a little distant from spending so much time looking at small items at such close distance. a migraine is forming at the side of his skull. )
Besides, I can't let you stay here alone.
( some gentle ribbing, his lips quirking up a touch. )